Hoot-hoot-hoot-hoot, the sound rose from the shadowed forest, echoing across the humid air of Gombe.

Sitting around a bonfire on the shore of Lake Tanganyika my safari group froze mid-sip, eyes scanning the dark green wall of trees for the chimpanzee.

Hoot, Hoot, Hoot – a second pant-hoot—clearer, closer—threaded with the unmistakable warmth of human mischief.

“It’s Jane! It’s Dr. Jane, isn’t it, Lori?” someone in the group uttered, their voice trembling with awe.

I kept my smile to myself, letting their anticipation grow. Then, slipping from the edge of the forest into the glow of the firelight, Jane Goodall appeared. The donors erupted in applause and laughter, some reaching for cameras, others too stunned to move.

I could relate. Even after all the years I’d known her, and now working as the African Safari Specialist for her Institute, I was still awe-struck in her presence.

Her voice was soft and measured, yet she was formidable. She was always on mission, her attention fixed on what needed protecting, what needed changing, what needed saving. Her every word carried the weight of relentless focus. At dinner with her donors, she would lift her hand toward the mountains of Gombe, eyes traveling to where the forest once stretched, unbroken. “When I first arrived, it went on for miles,” she’d say, her tone equal parts wonder and grief. Each year, she watched it shrink. That loss shifted her life’s work from observing chimpanzee behavior to defending their home.

“If we don’t save the forest where the chimps live, we can’t save the chimps.”

Once, I asked her, “How do you keep going despite all the challenges?”
“I don’t give up,” she said simply.

That sentence lodged in me like a seed. Even when my own efforts at helping animals felt small—a ripple against a tide—I understood that not continuing was not an option. It wasn’t about winning; it was about staying in integrity with who I am.

Bringing people to Africa was one way of helping. Over and over I witnessed how being on safari opened people’s perceptions and deepened their devotion to the wild and the need to preserve it. It was my way of expanding the tribe of people who cared about saving our planet and all its creatures. It was a small role, but it was meaningful to me.

The Jane Goodall Institute’s work with local communities—coffee farms under the shade of forest trees, clean water wells, micro-loan programs—showed my clients and me that conservation wasn’t abstract. It was personal. Many donors wrote checks on the spot; others gave more when they returned home.

Having Jane join us at Gombe was a rare treat. Her schedule rarely aligned with mine in Africa. That meant I often represented the Institute in her stead – an encouraging presence. I visited Roots & Shoots programs across East Africa – speaking on behalf of Jane and her organization, praising project leaders, planting trees in barren schoolyards. Sometimes, I felt Jane’s presence beside me, buoying my efforts.

Once, I was even mistaken for Jane. At Nairobi’s Norfolk Hotel, after checking in my safari group under The Jane Goodall Institute, staff swarmed me with offers: “Would you like a drink? Something to eat? On the house?” I noticed people staring at me. Having just returned from the bush, I was still in dust-covered safari clothes, my blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. At first, I thought I stood out in the genteel lobby because of my disheveled appearance—until someone reached out their hand and said, “It’s so wonderful to meet you, Dr. Jane.”

Oh.

For one fleeting second, I allowed myself to bask in the glow of adulation meant for her and all she had done for the animals and people of Africa. And then, reluctantly, I let them down.

Back in the States, I met with Jane whenever I was invited. Between her meetings with African presidents, wealthy philanthropists, and Hollywood stars—“Your time with Jane is up because Warren Buffett’s grandson is waiting in the lobby,” or “Sorry, Jane is late because she’s still with Cameron Diaz”—we would share visions and ideas for my future tours and ways I could contribute to her work.

Jane is what Martha Beck calls a ‘Wayfinder’.  She was tireless, propelled by a calling. Since childhood, she never strayed from her purpose—to help animals. It was the guiding force behind every decision she made. I deeply admired that about her. Her stories always inspired, her passion ignited, and just being around her made me more determined than ever to help animals in any way I could.

Jane’s work cast a wide effect of good across the world. In my meager way, I will continue to be inspired by her in all I do.  Thank you, dear Jane Goodall.

**I would love to hear your feelings about Jane or this tribute in the comments below.

Lv,L

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